The Yeoman Adventurer Part 59

A wave of scornful laughter went round the room as the question pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth. Even the most ardent gamblers left their play to join the circle around us. English even in their vices, they took a fight for granted, but were up in a moment to see some fun.

The Marquess was disconcerted. He obviously felt that I was about to reflect on him in the gravest way; that, in short, I was backing out. He would be tarnished by the dishonour that had driven me out of the world of gentlemen.

"I think," said he, "that would be overstraining the privileges of an insulted gentleman."

"Run away, farmer!" bellowed Sir Patrick raucously.

Tiverton looked disdainfully at him. "You may like to know, my lords and gentlemen," he said, as grandly as if he were reciting a set piece from the stage, "that on the night of his arrival from Boston my friend was rudely insulted in the Strand by a certain person." Here he stopped, whirled round on the hulking scoundrel, and added grimly to him, "I shall finish the story unless you leave the room at once."

Gee thought better of it and slipped off like a disturbed night-prowler.

"Thank you, my lord," said I very humbly, "for your decision. I hope my unavoidable ignorance ent.i.tles me to try again."

"Certainly," said he, but with unmistakable uncertainty.

I looked round the intent curious circle of faces and then at Brocton. On his face and in his cruel eyes there were the same gloating antic.i.p.ations that were there when, in Marry-me-quick's cottage, he thought he was bending Margaret to his foul will. You could have heard a card drop in that crowded room.

My time had come to the tick. Stretching myself taut, I said slowly and distinctly, "Here. Now. Fists."

Brocton went limp and ghastly. I strode up to him, took him, unresisted, by the scruff of the neck, and then said curtly, "Open the door, Tiverton."

The willing little Marquess ran delightedly to do my bidding, and I kicked my lord Brocton into the kennel and out of my life.

Next morning I went round to Tiverton's as usual, and while he was at breakfast, and we were starting our usual round of talk, in came Sir James Blount, a stranger at such an hour.

"Have you heard the news?" he asked abruptly.

"What news?" asked Tiverton, rather sour at being cheated out of his morning's consolatory grumble with me.

"Mr. Freake has declared that Miss Waynflete is to be his sole heiress,"

he replied.

I had to thump Tiverton to prevent him being choked by something that went the wrong way. We had an excited talk about the news, which Sir James had received direct from Master Freake, which settled it as a fact beyond dispute or change. Margaret was now the most desirable match in London from every point of view. Blount went away quite pleased with the stir he had made.

"Henry! Henry!" yelled Tiverton as soon as we were alone, and in came his man hastily. "Henry! What the devil do you mean by putting me into these old rags? Damme! I look like a chairman. Go and get some decent things out, you old rascal! I'm to call on the greatest lady in London town."

He hurried off after his servant, and I heard him singing and shouting over his second toilet. I crept miserably out of the house and made my way to the mews. The ostler saddled my horse, a beautiful chestnut mare which Master Freake had given me, and I rode out of town, deep in thought.

Mechanically, I went the way we had intended to go, and found myself at last on the heights that overlook London from the north. Then I pulled up.

The towers of the Abbey stood out n.o.bly against the steel-blue sky.

Within their shadow was Master Freake's house where, by now, Tiverton would not have pleaded his love in vain. I saw her there, in the splendid room she always dimmed with her greater splendour, the exquisite Marquess at her feet, happy in possession of the pearl of great price. Over this vision a shadow came, and I saw the house-place at the Hanyards, with our widowed Kate alone in her sorrow. Her flame-red hair was white as snow and tears of blood were on her cheeks. Donald's farewell, _Weird mun hae way_, boomed in my ears like a dirge. With a sigh that was near of kin to a sob, I pulled the mare round and urged her northwards, northwards and homewards.

In my fear and trembling I s.h.i.+rked everything, doing childishly and more than childishly. I was not on Sultan, and when I rode out of Lichfield I hugged that simple fact to my heart. So much of my dream had at least not come true, and I gave the lie to more of it by leaving the high road and wandering devious ways till, within four or five miles of home, I left even the by-ways and kept to the fields. So keen was I on my little stratagems that I rode over the Upper Hanyards without once recalling the fact that it was now mine as it had been my father's before me. About four o'clock on a December day, just over a year since leaving home, I leaped the mare over a hedge and was at the old gate.

More of the dream was untrue. The winter sun was dropping down to the hill-tops like a great carbuncle set in gold, and the Hanyards was all aglow in its flaming rays. The gate was open, so that I could at least begin by pitching into Joe Braggs for his negligence, and the windows of the house-place s.h.i.+mmered a welcome because of the cheerful blaze within.

Not a soul stirred. I jumped down, threw the reins over the gate-post, and walked stealthily into the yard and up to the window. Still not a soul stirred.

I peeped in.

There was our Kate, leaning lovingly over my chair, pillowed as she had never pillowed it for me, and in the chair was clearly a man, for I could see his stockings and breeches stretching comfortably past her skirts. She laughed merrily at something said, and then stooped and kissed the person in the chair.

This was woman's faith! With a great clatter, I strode into the porch, thrust open the door, and stepped in. There was a shout of delight, a babble of, "It's our Noll! It's our Noll!" and Kate leaped into my arms and rained kisses on me.

The man followed her, slowly and feebly, leaning heavily on a stick. When he turned his face so that the firelight showed him up, my legs sank beneath me and my knees knocked together. It was Jack, dear old Jack, nothing but the shadow of himself, but still Jack right enough, and his hand was in mine.

"Run, Kit!" he cried. "Get some wine! The lad's overcome. G.o.d bless you, old Noll, how are you?"

Kate ran off into the parlour, where our wine was stored.

"Jack!"

"h.e.l.lo, Noll!"

"I thought I'd killed you."

"Was it you?" he asked, all amazed at my self-accusation.

"Yes," I faltered.

"By gom, Noll, you did give me a sock!"

He heard Kate tripping back with the wine, and put his finger on his lips for a warning. And that was the first and last remark Jack Dobson made on the subject.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE WAY OF A MAID WITH A MAN

It took me to cure Jack. I administered one dose of medicine and he at once began to fill out and get strong and chesty in a manner almost absurd, whereon there was much twitting of our Kate who, in her old way, rated me soundly in public and crept up to me in private, and kissed me and wept gladly in the most approved maiden-like style.

This was the way of it. I sent Joe Braggs into Stafford the day after I got home to fetch out Master Dobson, and had him alone in my room. True he was as near and grasping as ever, but I saw even this side of him in a new light now, for he had been near and grasping for Jack. He was rather uncertain when we met; glad enough, of course, to see an old friend back again safe and sound, but dubious on the main point.

"Master Dobson," said I, "your Jack desires to wed our Kate."

"So he tells me," said he dolefully, rubbing his thin finger under the edge of his bob-wig to scratch his perplexed head.

"She is an excellent young woman, and a comely," said I, grinning at him.

"Undoubtedly," he conceded.

"But, as the head of the family, Master Dobson, I offer no objection to the proposal." Much it would have mattered if I had, but I always take credit when and while I can.

"It's very kind of you, Ol ... Mr. Wheatman," said he, "but...."

"Yes," said I encouragingly.